


Slave

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458), Jane Jones (raynewton)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/Jane%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth raided by Vulcan for slaves. Naval officer Kirk is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave

**Author's Note:**

> Originally printed in an issue of Duet

Slave

by Jane Jones and Fiona James

PART I

Lieutenant James T Kirk of the warship Enterprise walked briskly along the crowded street - at least, he tried to, but the slow-moving shoppers hindered him, When he reached the Central Park, he cut into it, knowing that it provided a short cut, and his pace picked up.

The park itself, as usual, was fairly crowded; it was lunchtime, and many office workers picnicked here in weather such as this. Others, like Kirk, were using the Park as a short cut. A group of children from a nearby school played noisily.

Suddenly Kirk felt dizzy, Everything went dark, then slowly brightened again... And...

... he was standing, with many of the people who had been around him, in well-lit room. Spaced around the walls were... men? But men such as he had never seen before. Their skins were tinged green, their eyebrows slanted, their ears... their ears were pointed, giving them a satanic look that wasn't diminished by the expressions on their faces.

Any thought Kirk might have had of fighting died still-born as he saw the unfamiliar, but obvious, weapons each 'man' held. He had not become a naval Lieutenant by ever acting precipitately or prematurely. He could bide his time.

One of the women, who had had time to absorb the alien appearance of their captors, began screaming hysterically, Her reaction seemed to please the aliens.

An alien barked a single, short sound. The accompanying gesture clearly said 'come'. The order was backed up by a general threatening gesture.

They went, the hysterical girl carried along with the rest. They were taken along a short corridor and halted at a doorway.

Another short order was barked. When nobody moved to obey - the language being incomprehensible to them - their guide illustrated by grabbing the dress of the woman nearest him and ripping it off. He repeated the sound.

"They want us to strip," someone said in blank dismay.

"No! No!" The hysterical one was triggered afresh.

Kirk shrugged. "More dignified to do it ourselves than be forcibly stripped," he commented, and removed his shirt and trousers. He hesitated ever his underpants, glancing at their captors; a gesture convinced him that they were to strip completely, and he did so. Others followed his lead, the women noticeably more hesitant. One or two seemed likely to refuse; their clothes were simply ripped off with a complete disregard for any cuts and cloth burns they might suffer in the process. Then they were all herded into a further room.

They felt vibration against their skins and smelt antiseptic.

"What are they doing?" one woman gasped. She sounded as if she too, might soon be joining her hysterical sister.

"Disinfecting us?" Kirk suggested.

"What? Why?" someone asked,

Kirk shrugged. "We appear to have been taken prisoner by some kind of alien. They won't want Earth germs carried to their home planet - wherever that is."

"Home planet?" Another voice,

"Can you think of where else they could have come from?" Kirk demanded.

The vibration stopped; and a door opened. It was somewhere to go.

They entered a room that already held a fair number of naked Humans of both sexes, and ages varying from school age to - at a guess - the forties. Many of the women, in particular, were either crying or looking shocked; a few, and many of the men, looked angry. Kirk suspected that neither reaction would be of any help.

They settled down. Almost unconsciously, they had segregated the sexes; the two groups met where men and women who had clearly known each other before their capture sat together.

Kirk shivered, It was psychological rather than actual cold, he realised, the chill of the unknown more strange than anything else.

One more group joined them, a few minutes later; and then for some hours nothing happened, or seemed to happen.

***

A door opened; several of the aliens entered, weapons ready; they were clearly guards. Then a group of aliens of both sexes joined them.

One by one, the female prisoners were hauled forward roughly, and subjected to a brief physical examination. One or two - including all the younger school children - were put to one side. From the nature of the examination, Kirk guessed that these were the virgins, and he could further guess that the eventual fate of all of them was slavery. He was not sure whether the men or the women would be the more fortunate.

The women 'processed', their captors now turned to the men as the female aliens led away the virgins. From the avid way their guards looked at the other women, Kirk realised that few of them would end the journey unimpregnated, unless the genetic types were completely incompatible, as seemed more than possible. But it wouldn't be for want of the guards trying. Pregnant women were always worth more in the slave markets, Kirk remembered from Earth's history, but virgins were also prized.

The alien who was clearly the leader examined the men carefully, occasionally reaching out to grip an arm or leg as if checking their musculature. He indicated one or two - young, athletic - and they were also taken aside. Then he reached Kirk.

The naval Lieutenant met the alien gaze resolutely; he was not going to give this being the satisfaction of seeing him beaten, although he knew well enough that he was. This slavery was more final than any Earth had over known; even if he escaped, where could he escape to? He wasn't even an airman or a trainee astronaut, to try to begin to understand the controls of a space ship. And if these 'men' were typical of those wherever they were being taken, his appearance would inevitably mark him as alien. All he could retain was his pride - But by God, he swore, they'll never take that away. from me!

The alien smiled slightly as he tested Kirk's muscles ungently; the hard grip was painful, but Kirk had been ready and accepted it unflinchingly, his head high. The alien nodded, and indicated that Kirk should move aside,

He was one of only eight men selected.

They were led out as two more aliens entered, carrying what looked like a long poker on a wire; they later learned that it had been used to brand the remaining men, who were regarded as ordinary work slaves, nothing more. For the moment, though, all they knew was that they were being separated. They were taken to a small room where, one by one, their right earlobes were pierced and a gold ring inserted; heat was applied to seal the ring. The heat hurt worse than the prick - but the prick was the more humiliating experience. Kirk could only assume that they were treated in this fashion to avoid marking them; they were the select group, and would probably be considered valuable, though they were given no indication as to their possible fate. Then they were left.

The room had some blankets piled on the floor; they used these in lieu of clothes, more from habit than from need, for the ship's temperature was warmer than was comfortable for any of them, but when the aliens discovered this, the blankets were removed and they were left naked, with nothing to lay on the floor at night to give the illusion of a bed. They were given the opportunity to exercise, however, which none of the other men seemed to have, and their quarters were certainly less crowded. Occasionally they saw one of the Human women; they - the ones who had not been locked away and kept carefully guarded by the alien females - had been distributed around the ship, forced to share the crewmen's quarters. None of them had been given clothes, either; they all showed the bruises of over-enthusiastic mating which was almost certainly rape. Kirk gritted his teeth. and tried to ignore it. There was nothing they could do, and as far as the woman were concerned, it was merely a foretaste of what their future life would probably be.

It was difficult to judge time. The aliens appeared to have a different biorhythm and, of course, ship's 'days' were set to their home world's time. (Kirk later learned that the alien day was some, two Earth hours shorter than the one he was used to.) The voyage was long enough to enable them to adjust to the new rhythm but as time dragged on boredom was a definite problem, although Kirk realised that the other men, deprived of even the hours of recreation and exercise must be even mere bored. None of his companions seemed to have very high intelligence; handsome, athletic and strong, they had few topics of conversation bar women and sport. Kirk had never been strongly drawn to sport as such - his preference along that line had been towards the 'solitary' sports rather than team games, where individual skill counted for more than group skill - and while he could participate in a discussion of women and sex with the best - or worst - he did feel that in the absence of practical pursuit of the subject it was one to pall rapidly. Apprehension began to dawn. Just what or where were they going to?

Kirk alone of the selected men seemed to consider the future; an attempt to discuss it with the others died virtually stillborn. None of them appeared to care; or if they did they were too scared to admit it, even to themselves in fact. It seemed that all of them regarded the possibility of life as - say - gladiators was quite welcome. Kirk forbore to state his opinion that selected men would not be wasted in an arena; in Earth's past, gladiators had been drawn from criminals and prisoners of war who did not rate special treatment. Unless they were going to a planet where gladiators were, like the ancient Cretan bull-leapers, highly regarded, that, at least, would not be their fate. He withdrew slightly from the others after that, preferring to be regarded as stuck-up - and preferring his own thoughts to the boredom of their monotonous sexual reminiscences - and indeed, if even half of what a couple of them claimed was true, it left him with a very low opinion of their reliability.

But the journey eventually ended. They were marched out - still naked - and taken to an area where they were shackled - fairly lightly, but there was no way in which they could break their bonds - and left exposed to view.

At first there were only a few aliens about, but word seemed to get around quickly, and a crowd soon gathered. Some merely watched; others examined the living merchandise more closely, testing muscles carefully. One tall alien made his way along the line of selected men, and Kirk heard him, ask each what his previous occupation had been. It was the first alien Kirk had heard speaking Terran. The answers seemed to dissatisfy him; he moved on down the line. Kirk was seventh.

"And you? What was your work?" The voice was deep and quiet.

"I was a naval Lieutenant."

"Naval?"

"I served on a ship in my country's navy - a warship."

"Ah. You were a warrior."

"Our job was rather to maintain peace."

One eyebrow lifted. "Why?"

"No-one likes war. It causes unnecessary suffering."

"If you were a warrior you must have won your position by fighting well."

"No," Kirk said. "Among my people, promotion is by knowledge, not according to who can hit hardest. Any idiot can fight, but it takes an able and intelligent man to direct others."

"Your intelligence did not prevent your capture by those stronger than you."

"It is not weakness to be overcome by a technology more advanced than your own," Kirk replied. "The question is, which of us is more civilized? Our people do not condone slavery, but realise that every man - and woman - had the right to be free."

The dark eyes looked at him indifferently. "The word 'civilized' means different things. You cannot compare the level of civilization of two cultures - slave." He turned and moved to the next man, but his answer seemed to be unsatisfactory, and the alien walked away without wasting any more time on him. More potential buyers moved up, poking, prodding. Kirk set his lips firmly and ignored the aliens, head held high; neither resisting nor attempting to evade the inspection, knowing that either was futile. Finally the potential buyers dropped back; their attention was fixed on a nearby rostrum.

Several of the women were dragged onto it first; bidding clearly started, One by one the women were sold. Then some of the men; slowly the merchandise was bought, and finally the select group of men was led forward. Only the virgins were left to finish the auction.

Bidding was keen; keener than at any time so far, and from the numbers of bids, Kirk guessed the prices also were higher. Oh well, that was only to be expected - and it meant one thing; as an expensive, and therefore valuable, possession, he should be treated quite well.

At last it came to his turn, The bidding seemed endless; finally two voices only were left. Then one fell silent. Kirk drew a deep breath, knowing he had been sold, fighting down any display of the sudden humiliation he felt.

He was led off, chained beside the other sold men, There were fewer than there had been as their new masters came to take them away.

He had very little time to wait.

His buyer turned out to be the tall dark-haired alien who had spoken to him. The merchant's employee unfastened Kirk; his master looked at him.

"I think you realise that escape is impossible," he said evenly.

"I realise there is nowhere here I could go," Kirk replied. "Any attempt to escape would therefore be a pointless exercise."

"Good. I took you for a sensible man." He nodded to the slaver, saying something in his own tongue. The slaver looked surprised, but unfastened Kirk's chain.

"Come." His master turned and moved away. Resigned, Kirk followed, hoping that he would soon be permitted shelter from the fierce sunshine; he was already fairly badly sunburned, and knew that he would be in agony if he was exposed for much longer.

He was led to a flying machine and entered it gratefully. Inside, the sun had been beating down on it so it was very hot; but at least the direct rays of the sun no longer struck him.

His new master pointed to a low seat behind the pilot's chair; he took it as the alien slid into the pilot's position. There was no safety belt. In a way that was a relief; he had the suspicion that the pressure of a belt would have been agonising against his sunburn.

The aircraft took off. He could see only the sky, for which he was sorry; but then, he reflected, he had the rest of his life to learn the geography of this world to which he had been so unceremoniously transported.

At last the aircraft landed. His master gestured for him to follow, and left the craft.

A large and imposing house stood nearby, single-storeyed, shining white in the sunshine. He was led to it.

In the cool interior his master turned to face him end studied him carefully, a slight frown on his face. "I think you have been standing too long in the sun," he said.

Kirk shrugged. "I've been sunburned before; I won't die of it."

"Perhaps not. But you will be unable to serve me as I require if you are in pain, Some of your fellows will undoubtedly suffer more because of it; not all Vulcans realise how incapacitating too much sun can be, and not only is our sun more powerful than yours, you have been shut away and not exposed to sunlight for several... weeks. The time period does not translate exactly. You will not find me unreasonable if you are obedient, however. Do not think I am being kind; it is for my own benefit I do this."

He lifted from a small table a jar of ointment and scooping some up he approached Kirk and began to smooth the stuff over the Human's body. It was cool and marvellously soothing to flesh that was already beginning to feel hot and prickly.

Kirk accepted the gentle touch gratefully, but stiffened as the alien hands touched the ultra-tender skin round his genitals, seeming to linger. No man, not even a doctor, had ever touched him there, and he was not sure he particularly cared for it.

Finished, the alien put down the jar. Kirk said abruptly, "Thank you. May I know... who I... belong to?" Despite himself his voice faltered.

His master affected not to notice the slight tremor. "My name is Spock. I require a body servant; a personal slave. Your duties will be to tend me; to keep my things in order; you will serve me at table when I visit, and here also if I wish it. It appears to me that you are a man of some intelligence, a man who knows how to think; on occasion I will require you to discuss matters with me. Do you play chess?"

"I... know the game."

"You will know it better. I require practice; and I will not thank you for letting me win. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise. What weapons can you use?"

Kirk frowned slightly, not sure if the Earth words would mean anything. "Rifle, pistol; I've done a little archery, though not much."

"Archery... That will serve. Finally, I require you to share my bed."

"No!" Despite his resolve to show a dignified acceptance of his situation Kirk was startled into an instinctive negative.

"No? A slave may not refuse his master anything." The deep voice was suddenly very cold.

"I've never... It's wrong!"

"On your planet, perhaps." The deep voice was indifferent again. "Here it is a matter of personal preference."

"But... if you wanted somebody to share your bed, why not one of the women?" Kirk asked desperately. "A woman could give you children... "

"I do not wish for fatherhood; I prefer to buy adult slaves. You will find no women among my servants - I have no wish to find my house filled with squalling brats." He stared implacably at Kirk. "It may be a new experience for you, my slave, but I would advise you to resign yourself to it; I will not forgive such a display a second time. What is your name?"

"Kirk."

"Very well. You have forty-eight hours to familiarize yourself with the house, learn from the other slaves how to go about your duties - save the last, I will teach you that myself - and give your skin an opportunity to heal. Continue using the salve as frequently as your require it. And remember - escape is impossible. You recognised that there is nowhere for you to go - and the punishment for attempted escape is... somewhat barbaric." He turned and walked out.

Moments later, another Human entered. He was grey haired, wearing only a tunic, and from his ear ring, from which hung a small gold rectangle engraved with a simple pattern, also a slave.

He looked over Kirk consideringly and nodded. "I am David Masters," he said. His voice sounded English. "I'm the steward here. The master tells me you are his new personal slave."

"Jim Kirk. It seems so."

Masters smiled sympathetically. "I know," he said. "It hits hard at first, but you do get used to it... and you're more fortunate than many. You've been bought as a personal slave. But you must be careful; the master is fussy when it comes to personal slaves. He hasn't had one for some time; but he's had four during the time I've been here and none of them lasted more than a month. Nobody knows just what they did wrong, but they were sold. The best advice I can give you is to be obedient and efficient; if he makes you play chess, play to win."

"He told me that."

"Yes, He plays for the practice; he doesn't insist, as many Vulcans do, that he must always beat his slave, He prefers to know he won on merit."

"If I don't please him he'll sell me?" Kirk suddenly sounded hopeful.

"You sound as if you'd like him to."

"He said... " Kirk flushed. "He told me part of my duties would be... to sleep with him."

Masters nodded. "Of course. It's standard procedure among Vulcans who have enough family feeling... If he sleeps with a female slave and she has children they also are slaves. It's automatic. A lot of Vulcans don't care, but many do, and a young, handsome man is, for them, the obvious and logical answer. Jim, don't think, if the master sells you, that your fate will be any different. You're exactly the type Vulcan men want, and you'd be bought for someone else's bed.

"At the same time you could guarantee your new master would not be so good; a personal slave sold as unsatisfactory will find a buyer, but frequently that buyer turns out to run a brothel. Personal service isn't highly in demand there, only your body. No, my advice is to study to please your master. You're much better off here. And now, I had better affix the master's insignia before. beginning your basic education."

Kirk stared in horror as the steward approached. and deftly fastened to Kirk's earring the gold rectangle that would show the world that he belonged to Kay't Spock.

***

The main part of his duties, as outlined by the steward, seemed simple enough, and he knew he could perform them with little trouble. He assumed that Spock, if he was the rational person Masters described him, would make allowances for some initial clumsiness, but even so, Masters insisted that he practice table service by serving the other slaves. (Later he was glad of it.) He also practiced undressing Masters, who wore an old robe of Spock's for the occasion.

"The Master won't mind inexperience," Masters said frankly. "Indeed, he'll probably prefer it, for then you won't have to unlearn anything in order to dress him as he prefers, but it is better that you should know at least the rudiments of how to go about the task."

Masters showed him how to drape the robes around their wearer and the basic fastening that tucked the loose cloth in so that the robe would not fall off. Finally, he advised Kirk to get a good night's sleep in the main dormitory before going on duty.

Kirk would have liked to obey, but he was far more severely sunburned than he had realised, despite making good and frequent use of the salve. He finished the first lot and Masters provided him with a further jar of it; this was now nearly finished but the pain of the sunburn still made sleeping impossible. It was a tired and uncomfortable slave who went to begin his duties next day,

His master looked up as he entered the bedroom where Spock was waiting to change his clothes. The brief loincloth Kirk wore irritated the tender flesh of hiss buttocks and genitals, and he would almost have preferred to dispense with it, but it at least gave him the illusion of protection from the physical assault that had still to come. His naked body showed clearly the extent and severity of his sunburn. Spock frowned.

"Didn't you use the salve I gave you?" he asked coldly.

"Yes... sir." Kirk. uttered the respectful noun hesitantly, but it at least was one he was accustomed to using; he doubted that he could ever address Spock as 'master'. "I finished the jar and got more; that's nearly finished too."

"Hmmm. You must have suffered longer exposure than is normal. Have you slept?"

"No, sir. I have tried... but - "

"Well, you cannot serve me satisfactorily in that condition. Return when the sunburn is fully healed."

Kirk had been thinking hard and decided that he would be best to show willing, at least... with regard to everything but bed. "I can begin my duties at least, sir. The sunburn should not prevent me from seeing to your clothes."

"Very well."

Kirk eased off the Vulcan's robes and put them aside, being careful not to crease them. Naked, Spock looked even thinner than he had when dressed. His body was tanned, and Kirk realised that his master must frequently exercise nude or nearly so.

Spock washed briskly, gestured for a towel and Kirk dried him. As Spock then directed the Human how to drape the new robe, the Vulcan said, "Once the sunburn is healed habituate yourself to the sun. I have no wish to be deprived of the services of my personal slave again for this reason."

"Yes, sir."

"Has David begun teaching you Vulcan?"

"Yes, sir, but I'm having difficulty with some of the sounds."

Spock nodded. "Humans usually do." He studied himself carefully in the mirror as Kirk finished brushing his hair. "Yes; that is satisfactory. I will not require you again today. Attend me at eight tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir." Kirk watched Spock leave, then turned his attention to the discarded clothes. The robe he shook out and hung up carefully; the other clothes he took to be washed.

***

It was ten days before Kirk's body stopped peeling and the new skin toughened. Kirk had already begun acclimatizing himself by then with short periods of exposure; he decided to sunbathe nude in order to be fully habituated to the sun, just in case of accidents.

By this time he was fairly used to the general pattern of his duties and had even played Spock at chess a couple of times; he had been soundly beaten, but knew what he had done wrong; he hoped to make a better showing next time. But he knew he could not delay the taking up of the last of his duties much longer.

So on the tenth day he had to tell Spock he was fully recovered. Spock looked quietly satisfied. "Good. You will sleep with me tonight."

"Yes, sir." Reluctance he could not disguise coloured his voice.

Spock smiled slightly. "I look forward to initiating you into the most important of your duties."

The day seemed endless. Kirk spent much of it working at his Vulcan lessons; Spock had left him behind today when he went out instead of taking him along as he had done several other days. But finally he returned, called for a very light meal then nodded to Kirk. "I will retire now."

Kirk undressed his master and hung the robe on the ready hanger; the soiled garments went into a basket beside the door. The bath, run by a general house slave, was ready; Kirk tested the water and helped Spock in, then carefully washed the Vulcan, as he had done several nights now. When Spock stood, Kirk held the towel and dried him. He swallowed; the rest, once he had seen Spock into bed, was unknown territory.

Once the Vulcan was lying down, Kirk hesitated. Normally at this point he ran the water off. Spock indicated the bathroom. "Wash," he said quietly.

Kirk obeyed, glad of anything that would delay the inevitable. He washed thoroughly but quickly and dried himself carefully. Then, naked, he ran off the water and threw the towel into the laundry, before returning to the bedroom.

Spock indicated the bed beside him. Kirk swallowed again, and slid between the sheets. He lay on his back, rigidly stiff despite his best efforts to relax. The Vulcan propped himself on an elbow and looked down at the tense face of his slave. His lips curved slightly; Kirk found himself completely unable to decide why. Was it in anticipation heightened by the Human's obvious, instinctive reluctance, or was it in understanding of that reluctance?

His master reached out and placed his hand on Kirk's chest. Kirk fought an incipient panic, remembering Masters' words: 'An unsatisfactory body slave is frequently bought by a brothel.' Here, at least, his body would be subject to violation by only one man; in a brothel he could expect to be used by many men, and be sure that his reluctance would be a stimulant to some of them. He knew too many Human men who were only fully satisfied if their sexual partner was unwilling, or at least appeared to be so.

Spock stroked his chest lightly. There was nothing particularly sensual in the touch, Kirk realised; rather it was similar to a massage, seeking to relax taut muscles. The hand moved gently over his chest and shoulders and despite himself he began to relax; slowly, Spock moved to kneel beside him, using both hands to massage his upper torso. After a while he was firmly rolled over and the Vulcan set to work on his back, working down carefully to his legs. He tensed again at the first touch on his buttocks, but Spock seemed to notice nothing.

This was totally unexpected. He had expected a demand that he stimulate his master, followed by a direct assault; a rape that tore into his body. Instead he was being given this thorough, relaxing massage as if he were the master and Spock the slave. Spock turned him over again and set to work on his thighs; it was some minutes before he realised that the massaging had become more sensual. He began to arouse, and fought his body's reaction frantically, trying to think of something, anything, that would kill his rising erection. In vain. Spock's hand curled around his penis, stroking it, and the touch destroyed any possibility of control. Then the Vulcan took one of Kirk's hands and guided it to his own penis, engorged and firm.

The feel of it was strangely seductive. Almost unconsciously he began to stroke it. The hand stroking his own penis in rhythm gave him the illusion of masturbating; under the impetus of that illusion, he stroked faster and faster, feeling the quickening friction on his own penis, and then hot liquid flooded his belly,

Memory returned as pleasure faded. He looked up into the dark alien eyes that gazed down... yes, gently, at the shame in his own face as he released Spock's penis. He had - he realised - been most expertly seduced into willing participation in a sexual experience that his upbringing, his every instinct, told him was unnatural, perverted... and he had enjoyed it. That was the most shaming part of it. At least his master had not demanded the right to penetrate his body, but that could well come.

Spock released Kirk's penis to circle with his finger the substance that smeared Kirk's belly, mixing the two semens. "Well, my slave?" he said softly. "I think you found it more enjoyable than you anticipated."

Kirk couldn't answer. He had suddenly realised that although this was his first time with another man, it was not so for Spock. He was the fifth - at least - personal slave the Vulcan had owned, even although he had kept the others only briefly. Spock's expertise had come from practice, and to his astonishment, Kirk found himself hating his predecessors for it.

Jealous? he thought. Impossible! It's perverted, unnatural, I don't want it. I hate him for it, for so degrading me!

***

Life settled fairly quickly into a pattern. There was little now of the monotony of Kirk's first days of slavery; his burned skin had healed and Spock kept his slave almost constantly at his side. Kirk learned too the reason for the question about weapons; Spock often went hunting the dangerous le-matyas that made travel except by air almost impossible. It was not merely sport; the le-matyas attacked the animals Spock kept on his land to provide milk and a sort of wool, and they were viciously cruel in those attacks. After he saw one young lahran, still alive, but with a great gash and chunk torn out of its flesh by a le-matya, so that Spock had no alternative but to put it out of its misery, he lost any inhibitions he might have had about hunting down the killers. His armed presence was necessary, the larger the hunting party, the greater the chance of a kill. The first time he had been given a bow, he had stared in surprise; then he realised that should he try to use it on any Vulcan present his life would indeed be short. But he still appreciated that he could be trusted enough to be taken along, given a weapon. It was not indeed the weapon he was acquainted with, but it was similar enough for him to be able to handle it competently after a short lesson.

***

As the first month drew to its close, Kirk waited, tense, wondering if he would now be sold as his predecessors had been, but no; there was no sign that Spock was even contemplating disposing of this personal slave. And as time passed Masters smiled at Kirk encouragingly.

"Keep up the good work!" he said. "The master is clearly satisfied with you, Don't forget, though - no matter how pleased he is now, if you slip he'll still sell you."

Kirk nodded. For the most part, although the fact of slavery conflicted with his pride, he found the position less humiliating than he had expected. A personal slave, like a steward, was clearly among the elite of his class and he had the right to give the lesser house slaves orders. He did so circumspectly, fully realising that should he give them cause to hate him, they were in a position to undermine his place by making him appear incompetent. The only problem was the nights.

He shared Spock's bed. That was a fact the Vulcan took for granted, No longer was he dismissed, as he had expected to be on the nights when Spock did not want him, to sleep in the dormitory; he slept in Spock's bed every night. Not that Spock made use of him every night; indeed, it seemed that Spock rarely felt the need for sexual release, for many nights he simply slept. But Kirk never knew on which nights Spock would expect his services. Sometimes he would be left in peace for two or three weeks, other times he would find himself used on several successive nights. Spock still caressed him, coaxing response; although occasionally he demanded reciprocal caresses he seemed to enjoy better taking the active part. But the humiliation Kirk had feared had finally come; one night recently Spock's penis had penetrated his body, thrusting against him, plunging deeper and deeper into him until - shaming recollection - he had heard himself gasping in ecstasy and felt himself responding to the hard-held thrust that signalled the Vulcan's orgasm. Spock had remained motionless for some time thereafter, his penis still buried in his slave's body; when it finally slipped from him, Kirk realised that Spock had in fact fallen asleep. He himself lay awake for hours trying to come to terms with his own reactions.

Several nights had passed since then; Kirk guessed that his master would soon want him again, and he had still not decided whether he dreaded or anticipated the enforced intimacy.

***

He rarely had time off; it made this free afternoon doubly precious. Spock had even given him a handful of small coins to spend; it gave a bittersweet illusion of freedom. While he could see nothing that he might want to buy, it did mean that he could pause and purchase for himself a cool drink, being careful to select a stall that clearly catered for the lower classes, rather than one at which he might have obtained refreshment for his master.

As he drank, he was approached by a Vulcan of a type he had come to recognise; well-bred but dressed below his station in an ineffectual attempt to disguise his birth. Kirk sighed inwardly, mentally rehearsing the polite and respectful refusal he had learned to give; he had quickly learned that Masters' comment had been apt; he was indeed the type that Vulcan men found attractive, and he had several times been accosted and offered payment for his services. A rude reply earned rapid punishment, he had immediately discovered; a slave might refuse a man not his master and to whom his master had not given his services, but he had to do it politely.

"You are Kirk, the personal servant of Kay't Spock." It was less a question than a statement.

Surprised, the Human murmured, "Yes, sir."

"You do not find your position pleasant, I think."

Kirk was instantly alert. There was a note in this man's voice that he instinctively distrusted. "Kay't Spock has been most kind to me," he replied, realising almost with surprise that it was the truth.

"But humans of your kind do not take readily to slavery, do they?" 

"There's nothing we can do about it, sir."

"An intelligent man. But have you ever thought of escape?"

"Where could I go?" Kirk repeated what he had once said to his master. "I am better where I am."

"You could go back to Earth. With a little help, of course. Even be granted immunity against re-enslavement."

There has to be a catch in this, Kirk thought. Cautiously he said, "It sounds interesting. I take it there would be a price for such assistance?"

"A small price." The Vulcan sounded more sure of himself now that he had Kirk's apparent interest. He glanced round. "We cannot discuss it here; come."

Kirk hesitated. "I am due to return to duty shortly, sir," he said, not altogether truthfully, suddenly apprehensive. This could be some new approach; once in this man's room, having gone there willingly, he would have to submit should the Vulcan desire his body; all he could do about it was report the rape to his master. And having gone on the pretext of discussing escape, he would in fact have no defence. Whatever tale he told, an enforced mind-touch would immediately show that he was lying.

The Vulcan seemed to realise what he was thinking. "You need not be concerned, Kirk," he said, sounding faintly amused. "I do not desire your body; Vulcans are not underhand in such matters, though from your suspicions, Humans must be."

"Human males... sometimes resort to subterfuge when a woman is playing hard to get," Kirk admitted.

The Vulcan nodded. "I wish merely to discuss, in private... the price for your escape from slavery."

"Very well, although it is true that I must not be too late," Kirk said.

"I will not detain you for long."

***

There were three man and - strangely - a woman gathered in the room to which the Vulcan led Kirk. Sight of them increased Kirk's unease, his sense of something wrong... they bore the look - unusual on Vulcan - of an awareness of guilt, and Kirk gathered himself for an encounter he was sure would require all his wits to escape,

"He's interested?" asked one of the men immediately.

"Patience, Sordal. He does not yet know details of our offer," Kirk's guide rebuked the man.

The Human waited. It did not become a slave to be forward; it was the most difficult lesson he had had to learn.

It was the woman who spoke next, to Kirk's surprise - with no women in his master's household he had not had much opportunity to see the inter-relationship of sexes here, but from what he had seen he had concluded that women were regarded as subordinate to men - that even a freeborn woman was in little better position than a slave.

"You do not know, me, Kirk. I am T'Uriamne, older sister to Kay't Spock.

"My mother was a freeborn Vulcan, yet because he was a son,. my brother, child of a freedwoman not even of our race, inherits our father's property and I get only a dowry although I am the elder and of the true blood. True, my brother shows no desire to marry and breed himself an heir, so that in due course the property should return to my children, but I cannot be certain that he will hold to his present course of action.

"I know that he takes you, his personal slave, to his bed. I know that this is opposed to Human custom. Am I correct in supposing that you find it unwelcome? That you would do anything to be free of the necessity of sharing his bed?"

Kirk flushed. "It is... a humiliation I would willingly escape," he agreed.

"You can. See." She held out a tiny bottle. "A drop of this in his cup and he will bother you no more. When he has drunk it, return here - and as soon as I have the news of his death, you will be no more a slave."

Murder? Kirk took the bottle. "One drop?" he asked. "Literally one drop?" 

"That is all that is required."

Kirk looked towards the door. "May I go? I do not wish to be late."

T'Uriamne nodded.

***

Freedom, Kirk thought. Freedom... was any price, even murder, too much to pay? And yet... save in that one respect, his master had been very good to him. And in the final analysis - could he trust T'Uriamne? Be had not liked the look of the woman; his promised reward could well turn out to be a knife between the ribs.

Murder. No - call it 'hitting back'. Call it a proud man's defence against the indignity of slavery, the humiliation of being used, degraded; that sounded better. Better? By any name it was cold-blooded murder. The weapon, not of a proud man but of a coward. No, freedom was not worth this price - a coward's attack on a man who was acting perfectly correctly by his own ethos. Kirk had no illusions left; he knew by now, full well, what his fate could have been. He knew that but for the hand of some merciful providence he could have been the property of an owner who allowed him no pride at all, who raped him nightly without any gentleness or consideration, instead of a man who treated him with a degree of courtesy and even permitted him at times the illusion of freedom. And he knew that he had not seriously considered T'Uriamne's offer even for a moment; he had merely acted from curiosity at first, and then out of a regard for his own skin. They could very easily have killed him there and then had he refused.

***

Spock looked up from the book he was reading. "You have returned early," he commented.

Kirk drew a deep breath. "Sir, I have... something to tell you. It is not pleasant, but you must know it."

"Go ahead."

Quietly Kirk told him of the offer that he had been made and gave Spock the small bottle.

"Were you not tempted?" Spock asked evenly.

Kirk reddened slightly. "For a moment," he admitted. "But the price was too high, though I did not tell them so. I thought it better to discover what was planned. Also, I... prefer to trust you, sir."

"Wait here." Spock went out. He returned within a few minutes, carrying something, "My sister will soon learn her poor judgement of your character," he said. "No, you need fear no reprisals. Should either of us die suddenly, for any cause, blame will instantly fall on her head; it is in her own interest to see that we both live."

So he can be ruthless too, Kirk thought. Somehow he was not surprised. Spock crossed to him; reaching for his ear. A soft click, and Spock lowered his hand; holding the earring and name tag.

"That's..."

"I hereby give you your freedom," Spock said quietly. "Your decision not to betray me proves that you are not a slave." As Kirk stared at him, hardly able to believe his ears, Spock went on. "As my freedman, you have certain rights; above all, you may not be enslaved again, and I must provide for you until you can support yourself - or you can choose to remain here as my paid employee. Whatever your choice, you have the right to demand my advice at any time; it is my responsibility to assist you, guide you..."

Kirk could only continue to stare at him.

***

Kirk lay in bed in the solitary room he had been given, unable to sleep. Events had moved too fast, even for his trained mind.

He was freed. No longer a slave to obey his master's whim... by freeing him, Spock had even taken a certain responsibility for Kirk's continued welfare. He could do whatever he chose... and best of all, his body was his own again. He would never again have to submit to the degradation of being used...

What could he do? Face it, Jim, he thought. You're not skilled at anything you could follow here. How can a desert planet have a navy? And you're too old to be considered for space service, even if they'd take a freedman. It seemed that his alternative choice was Spock's second option, to remain here, a paid employee. Psychologically he was unsure; would Spock try... No. He had no right now to claim Kirk's body. He would buy a new slave to fill the position Kirk had hold, and he would be the one -

Kirk's thoughts stopped short; jolted by a sudden stab of what he was forced to admit was jealousy. He couldn't bear the thought of Spock sleeping with someone else.

"No," he whispered, trying to deny the realisation. "It's wrong. it's unnatural, it's perverted, it's... it's degrading, and I'm free of it; but... I don't want to be free of it..." He hurried his face in the pillow, trying to come to terms with his confusion.

After a while he sat up. He knew only one skill that might serve him; that of personal servant. The duties of that position included satisfying Spock's: sexual needs. His master had never made any extreme demands of him, had indeed seen to it that he also obtained satisfaction. Now, faced with this situation, he realised that only on the first occasion had he been repelled by the thought. Since then it was habit that had kept him insisting to himself that it was wrong - and also, a little, the knowledge that he could not refuse, or, as a slave, initiate any action. Now, as a freedman performing the service of his own choice - if Spock accepted his decision - his wishes should surely count for something.

It was still fairly early, he realised; Spock might still be awake.

Even now, Kirk found it difficult to accept his desire; he rationalized it by telling himself that it was only courteous to let Spock know as soon as possible what he had decided.

The human got up, and pulling on the robe he had been given he went along to Spock's room, fastening the narrow sash as he went.

Only the faint House Guardian illuminated the room. In its dim light he crossed to the bed, and stood at its foot looking down.

Spock slept, but restlessly; his hand reached out as if searching; his failure to find what he sought wakened him and he lifted his head to look at the empty place beside him. He drew a deep breath that was almost a sob, and Kirk moved.

"Spock... "

The Vulcan jerked upright. "Kirk? What are you doing here?"

"I thought you'd still be awake," Kirk said apologetically. "I came to tell you my decision. I... I know only one skill useful on this world. Will you... accept my services as your personal servant?"

Spock looked closely at him. "Even as a freedman, it would still necessitate your sharing my bed; have you thought of that?"

"Yes. I found that I couldn't bear to think of you sleeping with anyone else; and as a freedman, I thought... I might also have the right to suggest when."

Even in the dim light, Kirk saw the hope and joy in Spock's eyes. "Jim?" Spock held out his hand. It was at once entreaty and command and the first indication that Spock knew his given name.

Kirk unfastened the sash and dropped the robe to the floor. Naked, he took Spock's hand and was drawn down to the bed. Spock's arms enfolded him and then a firm, demanding mouth fastened itself on his, tongue thrusting demandingly until he opened his lips. It was the first time Spock had kissed him, and willing though he was now, he was startled at how pleasant the sensation was. He responded avidly, clinging to Spock when the Vulcan would have raised his head; Kirk held it down, his own tongue now probing hungrily. At this sign of Kirk's complete surrender, Spock gave a little moaning sound deep in his throat, pressing Kirk close. They kissed for a long time, each sucking and nibbling at the other's mouth, taking and giving with no recollection that until so recently the one had owned the other.

At last Kirk drew back slightly. "Why did you never kiss me before?" 

"Would you have welcomed it?"

"Probably not," Kirk admitted.

"I wanted you to turn to me willingly,° Spock went on. "When I took you before, I knew that I had to be careful, lest I destroy what chance I had of winning your heart. So I kept my caresses light, trying to show you the joy we could know together, even when I longed to drown you in my passion. Have I won your heart, Jim?"

"Yes," Kirk whispered. "I... I think you won it the very first night. I just wouldn't admit it even to myself. I knew from David you'd had other body slaves... and I knew you must have taken them to bed. Even then I was jealous."

Spock smiled. "No," he said. "They lay in my bed, yes - but that was all. All of them... Not one of them had the power to rouse me just by being there. As you do. If you had left me... Jim, I don't know what I would have done. But I had to give you the chance."

Kirk drew Spock's mouth to his again. Their lips barely touching, he murmured, "I want you, Spock. Show me what it is... to be drowned in your passion."

Spock claimed Kirk's mouth, exploring it thoroughly. He rolled them over so that he lay leaning over Kirk; broke their deeply passionate kiss to run his lips over Kirk's face gently, tenderly. He nibbled one neatly-rounded ear, then probed it with his tongue-tip, and Kirk gasped. The warm lips slid to his neck, pressing against the throbbing vein in his throat, and he moved his head slightly to bare his throat to the demanding mouth. The arm holding Kirk's shoulder close supported Spock's weight, the other hand stroked the length of Kirk's body in long, slow, sensuous sweeps that made the Human writhe.

"Mmmm." Spock raised his head to gaze possessively at the Human; Kirk smiled contentedly and offered his mouth again. Spock took it greedily, tongue demanding, and Kirk surrendered willingly, sucking fiercely, savouring the taste of the Vulcan's mouth.

The caressing hand touched a nerve and sent pleasure tingling through Kirk's body, making the Human cry out, the sound muffled in Spock's throat. The Vulcan raised his head for a moment to smile into Kirk's eyes, then lowered it again to rub his lips over Kirk's shoulders and chest, pausing at a nipple to nip it gently between his teeth, his tongue tip playing gently across it, making Kirk writhe again.

The searching hands and mouth continued to caress the Human mercilessly. Kirk's breathing was hopelessly uneven now and he wanted nothing more than release from this unbearable ecstasy.

Spock's tongue was probing his navel gently now. His own hands were combing the Vulcan's head and shoulders fiercely. Spock lifted his head and smiled. "Does this... please you?"

"Yes!" Kirk gasped. "0h, God, yes! Ahhh!" he cried out, his hips jerking upwards in involuntary reaction to the kiss that sent a sudden electric shock though his penis.

"Again?" Spock asked softly.

"Yes... " Kirk moaned deep in his throat as Spock repeated the caress, then raised his head once more to study Kirk's face.

"Don't stop," Kirk pleaded. "Please... Don't stop. I need you to take me, please take me."

"I'm not ready to take you yet," Spock murmured. His lips caressed the soft skin of the Human's inner thighs, tongue licking gently, sensuously, and sheer need drove Kirk to move. He rolled over, pushing Spock onto his back, then pulled the Vulcan's thighs apart, surprised at the ease with which he accomplished his aim. He knelt between Spock's thighs and leaned down to cover the Vulcan's mouth with his own. Even as his tongue probed the Vulcan's mouth, his penis penetrated the Vulcan's body. He pressed deeper, gently but firmly, sinking further and further into the warm, receptive body, and as he did so Spock sucked at his tongue in hungry acceptance.

Kirk wanted nothing more, now, than to relax his control, and let his body take over, find its own satisfaction, but he wanted Spock to enjoy it to the full too. He paused, fully inserted, to study Spock's reaction, and realised then that Spock too was desperate for release. He began to thrust, long, slow movements that withdrew almost entirely then sank deep, each forward thrust pressing against the Vulcan's tumescent organ and exciting him even more with its velvety tender firmness. Spock's rhythmic response was exciting too, and despite themselves both men found they were speeding up the rhythm of their thrusting, hands caressing, mouths clinging, tongues entwined possessively. The hot fountain jetting against his belly triggered Kirk's ejaculation and he pressed fiercely against the Vulcan as his semen poured into Spock's body.

They lay unmoving for some moments before Kirk moved to withdraw. Strong hands held him, prevented him from moving away, "Stay inside me," Spock whispered. "Stay inside me. Oh Jim... now we truly belong to each other."

"Then you will keep me... as your personal servant?"

"No, Jim. You made the choice I wanted you to make; you chose to stay with me. But Jim... I want more than that. I want... Jim, my mother was Human, A freedwoman, or I also would have been a slave, unacknowledged as his son by my father. I know from her of Human custom, and I know this one is completely alien to your race. On Vulcan it is as legal for two members of the same sex to 'marry' as it is for opposite sexes, although such marriages are rare. It is required that the participants in such a marriage swear that each is willing to be subordinate to the other that each is, in fact, willing to act as wife to the other as well as husband. Jim, you and I can truly make that commitment; will you... will you give me back your life, your freedom, and stay with me, married to me by a custom that is mine but which, although it is not yours, will be totally binding on you? Think well before you answer, Jim, for if you agree you can never turn back, never change your mind; Vulcans do not recognise divorce and infidelity is punishable by death. You will be tied to me even more completely than as a slave."

Kirk smiled. "You will be tied to me in the same way?"

"Yes."

"And you are sure it's what you want?"

"Yes. I think I've known it since I first saw you standing in the slave market. I sought only an intelligent body slave - I never thought to find a companion I couldn't bear to live without."

"And yet you gave me my freedom, knowing you might lose me."

"I could have kept you a slave, certainly... but this is what I want, you in my arms, of your free choice sharing my bed and my life; I had to risk losing you to win your consent. Don't keep me in suspense, Jim. Will you bond with me?"

Kirk touched his lips to Spock's. "Yes."

"Oh... Jim!" His grip tightened mercilessly, their mouths clinging with a hunger unsatisfied by their recent climax. Kirk moaned softly in ecstasy and rolled invitingly onto his back, pulling Spock after him.

"Take me."

Spock looked deeply into Kirk's eyes. Kirk murmured again, "Take me. Please..."

Slowly the Vulcan began to caress the smooth flesh of his erstwhile slave. It took almost no time at all to get the Human writhing against him; then his hand moved to the Human's face, and Kirk felt the touch of his mind, deepening, intensifying. "Do you give yourself to me completely, mind and body?"

"Yes. Yes! Spock..."

"You are mine through life and beyond death. As I am yours. Let this union declare our commitment..." Gently, slowly, Spock entered Kirk's body, and this time the Human welcomed the intimacy, no longer considering it a humiliation. There was no feeling that either man sought only personal gratification; in love and tenderness each sought to give the other the maximum of pleasure as they moved rhythmically against each other. Their mouths clung hungrily as they shuddered into climax; then they drew slowly apart, to look contentedly into each other's eyes. Kirk smiled happily, and saw an echo of his smile in the tenderness of Spock's gaze.

Words were unnecessary; Kirk could feel Spock's happiness deep in his mind and knew that Spock was as aware of his own utter contentment. But he had to say the words. "I love you, Spock."

The Vulcan smiled openly. Then he drew Kirk close, holding him possessively, Kirk sighed contentedly. "Don't ever let me go," he murmured sleepily. He snuggled his head against Spock's shoulder. The Vulcan turned his head to lay his cheek against the human's hair and, locked together, Human and Vulcan slept.

***

PART II

The sleeper awoke slowly, to the certain knowledge that he was not alone. Stealthily he reached out to the bed lamp, but a brilliant shaft of light struck full in his eyes, dazzling him.

"Do not move." The menace in the harsh tone held him obediently. motionless; after a moment the voice continued, "You are the physician, Leonard McCoy?"

"I am. Who are you? And what do you want with me?",

His question remained unanswered, and in the silence he could distinctly hear the sound of movement in the next room. Then what sounded like an order was barked in a harsh unknown language.

The speaker was not alone, for in response to the command McCoy was seized pulled from the bed, and his hands bound securely. "Come." 

The invisible hands urged him towards the door and into his surgery, where he gasped in astonishment. Two black clad figures were busy gathering together the contents of his surgery, packing drugs and instruments into large cases.

They clearly knew what they were doing, for as far as he could see nothing had been damaged or broken.

Outraged, intent on an explanation, McCoy turned angrily towards the man who had spoken to him, but his anger died unspoken and him eyes widened in shock. The intruders were dressed in an unfamiliar black uniform, and the two who had captured him held strange but easily recognizable weapons; but it was their physical appearance that produced a gasp of disbelief.

Tall, black-haired, their skins had a distinct greenish tinge, their eyebrows slanted upwards at an acute angle, and their enlarged ears were delicately pointed, giving them the appearance of traditional devils - McCoy almost found himself looking for tails.

One of the... men... closed the last of the boxes and said something to the leader, who nodded and pulled out a communicating device; he spoke into it rapidly, and a high-pitched musical humming filled the room, producing in McCoy a sensation of giddiness and nausea, then his vision slowly dimmed as his surroundings faded.

When awareness returned he was standing with his captors in an unfamiliar room filled with strange machinery; after a spate of commands the other picked up the boxes and left, while the leader gestured to McCoy to follow through another door to a small cubicle. His arms were freed, but a lifted weapon discouraged any attempt at resistance,

"Strip, and enter for decontamination." The voice was heavily accented.

It made sense, McCoy thought; these aliens would wish to destroy any germs he might be carrying. The door opened, and he was led a little further along the corridor to a bare cell-like room where he was left to his own devices.

Investigation showing that there was no exit he could open, McCoy sat down on the metal floor, trying to make sense of what had happened. His captors were aliens, that was clear enough, but why had they chosen him? They had known exactly who and what they wanted. 

The room was large, but he was its only occupant; despite the metal walls and floor, and his own nakedness, the temperature was almost uncomfortably warm, the air thin but breathable. Deciding that there was nothing to be gained by speculation McCoy, settled down to wait with what patience he could muster until someone deigned to explain what was going on.

***

He was awakened from a light doze by the door sliding open; one of the aliens entered, followed by the one he had identified as the leader. "Resistance is useless," he was informed. "We are many hours flight from Earth - I am certain you have the sense to realise that there can be no return. Stand up." `

Obeying, McCoy was caught by the guard, and held firmly by the arms while the leader, with a deftness that bespoke long practice, pierced his right ear and inserted a fine gold ring. Then he was released, the guard brought in a tray of food and the aliens turned to leave. McCoy found his voice at last.

"Wait! Won't you at least tell me where you're taking me? And why?"

The leader shrugged. "It will mean nothing to you, but our destination is the planet Vulcan. As to why... he who requires your services will explain." With that he followed the guard from the room.

No wiser, McCoy examined the tray that had been left, and began to eat while he thought, absently fingering the ring in his ear. He was on a spacecraft then, presumably being transported to the aliens' home planet; he was certainly wanted for some specific purpose - the careful packing of has equipment seemed to indicate that his knowledge as a doctor would be required. For a moment he wondered what sort of a world he was going to, and what need these Vulcans could have for a Human doctor, but he had already been told he would have to wait for an explanation.

***

The days passed slowly. He was not ill-treated, was fed at regular intervals, given a short tunic to wear and, once a day, escorted by two guards, was allowed to exercise in the corridors of the ship. No-one spoke to him, except to give orders, and he soon abandoned all attempts to question his guards when he discovered that only the leader had more than a few words of Terran.

At last came the day when he was led back to the room he had first seen on the spacecraft; as before, he experienced the nauseating sense of disorientation, and when he recovered he was standing in a small room which looked out onto an alien landscape.

A man was waiting for them, a grey-haired Human dressed as he was in a brief tunic. The stranger greeted the alien leader respectfully.

"The merchandise, as ordered." The alien jerked a thumb at McCoy. "In good condition, untouched and unharmed. My men are loading the equipment into your aircar; you have the payment?"

"In full." The Human handed over a sealed package. "My master bids me express his gratitude."

"It is an honour to serve Kay't Spock," the Vulcan replied formally; he left without taking any further notice of his former prisoner.

"I'm David Masters," the pleasant English voice brought McCoy's attention back to the Human. "I know there must be a thousand questions you want to ask. I'll explain as we travel - we must hurry - but first..." He reached up and attached something to the ring in McCoy's ear.

"What is it?"

"Your identification - without it you could be picked up by Security. It identifies you as the property of Kay't Spock. Come now, Dr. McCoy."

Property? Bewildered, McCoy followed his guide outside to a small aircar, and obediently took his seat.

"How do you know my name?" he asked at last, when they wore airborne. 

"You were specially selected," Masters explained, "My master - now yours also - arranged for your capture and paid a high price to have you brought to Vulcan. There is... a patient who urgently needs your skill."

"But I've never even seen a Vulcan before - I wouldn't know how to treat one!"

"Not a Vulcan, a human; our master's Bondmate."

"What's a Bondmate?"

"There's no exact equivalent in Human terms. A marriage partner is the nearest, but there's a mental union as well - Vulcans are telepathic. The master will give you all the information you need, but I can tell you this." The pleasant voice took on a note of warning. "You are now a slave, our master's absolute property. Unlike some Vulcans Kay't Spock treats his slaves well, but defiance and insolence are severely punished. He will forgive ignorance, but not disobedience. Above all, remember his Bondmate is the most precious thing in life to him - your life may well defend on your skill."

"He'd kill me for failing?" McCoy said incredulously.

"As a rule, no; but in this case... " Masters shrugged. "I doubt if he'd be rational. One last thing." The aircar dipped towards the ground. "Forget any plans to escape. There's nowhere to go anyway, except into the desert and that means certain death. It is my master's wish that I help you all I can - he understands that it will not be easy for you - but I will not betray him. He's been good to me," Masters finished as the aircar landed.

The dry heat- struck McCoy with almost physical force as he left the car, and he was grateful for the coolness of the house into which he was led without a moment's pause.

In the entrance hall a tall alien was pacing restlessly; he turned at their approach.

"You are the physician, McCoy?" he demanded.

"Yes... sir." McCoy was uncertain how to address his new owner, but he man seemed unconcerned.

"My Bondmate has spoken of you. David, see to the arrangements for the doctor,"

"Already in hand. Sir, is there... no change?"

"None." The impassive face softened for a moment at the question. "Come, doctor."

***

McCoy followed his master into a simple but comfortably furnished bedroom that looked out onto an enclosed garden; fountains played outside the window, cooling the air, and there was a delicate scent of flowers.

"Your patient." The Vulcan gestured towards the bed.

All questions of slavery or coercion were forgotten for the moment; McCoy was a physician, his help urgently needed, and he responded to that call.

As he leant over the bed, however, he stiffened in shock. Masters had spoken of the term 'Bondmate' as meaning a marriage parter and McCoy had automatically expected to see a woman... but the young human lying on the bed was male - and someone he recognised.

"Jim! Jim Kirk!"

On this alien world he was brought suddenly face-to-face with a man he had known well, but had not seen for many months. He had assumed that Kirk, a naval Lieutenant, had been on duty; and though he had wondered at not hearing from him, he had not been seriously concerned, expecting him to turn up in his own good time; as he had often done before. Now Jim was here and seriously ill...

"McCoy, please!" The quiet voice was tense with anxiety, recalling him to his duty, and he began his examination.

Kirk stirred restlessly at his touch, and only quietened when the Vulcan stepped forward to smooth the sweat-damp hair; McCoy completed his examination hastily and looked up.

"Well?"

"He is... very ill," McCoy said quietly. "There are more tests I want to make when I have my equipment, but for the moment... infection, fever... What happened to him?"

"He intercepted an arrow that should have struck me. The bolt fragmented on impact and our Vulcan surgeons were unable to remove all the pieces - they are not used to operating on Humans and dared not risk causing, further harm. Can you save him?"

"To be honest, I don't know. But I'll try." Blue eyes met the dark alien gaze squarely, then both men started as a low murmur came from the bed.

"I am here, Jim." The Vulcan sat down on the bed and captured the seeking hands. "Look, I have brought a friend for you."

The hazel eyes, bright with fever, turned reluctantly from Spock's face and widened in astonishment. "Bones! How did you get here?"

"Later, Jim," McCoy said gently. "We'll talk later. I'm going to get you well, first."

"I always said you could cure a rainy day," replied Kirk, with the ghost of a chuckle; then his face convulsed.

"Jim." The Vulcan's fingers tightened. "Our drugs do not help him," he said to McCoy.

"I'll soon fix that. What happened to my equipment?"

"David will show you. Strike that gong."

McCoy did so, and Masters entered silently, beckoning him to follow.

A few yards along the corridor they turned into another room which also looked out onto the garden; here another slave, dressed only in a brief loincloth, was unpacking the cases of equipment, stacking everything carefully on shelves.

As McCoy began to search for the items he needed Masters watched him, then asked, "Can you save him?"

"I hope so." Without pausing in his search McCoy continued bluntly. "You said that Jim was Spock's... bondmate, implying that they were... well, married."

Masters sighed. "I know it's difficult for you to understand, it's not something humans accept easily, but male bonding is legal on Vulcan. Jim was captured in a slave raid on Earth about a year ago; Kay't Spock bought him as a personal attendant, to wait on him, share his bed. Then one day the master freed him, I don't know why, and acknowledged him publicly as his bondmate. I think... " He hesitated. "I know that Jim loves him very much - he was injured trying to protect him."

"I don't believe it." McCoy set aside a hypo, and began to inspect the phials of drugs. "Jim's always been perfectly normal in his sexual desires - he must have been forced or trapped into this. Still, the first thing is to get him better." He picked up the drugs he had selected. "Let's go."

Masters left him at the door of Kirk's room, and McCoy entered so quietly that the Vulcan was unaware of his return, being totally absorbed in Kirk, who now lay in his arms; the Human was motionless, his eyes closed, but Spock's expression was one of fierce concentration. As he leaned closer to the pale face McCoy's mistrust surfaced.

"What are you doing to him?" he snapped, forgetting in his concern that this man was now his master.

"You forget yourself, I think - slave." The harsh voice was cold, but even as he turned the Vulcan's face smoothed to blankness. "However, I have merely blocked his consciousness... he was in so much pain," Spock finished on a softer note.

Tight-lipped, McCoy stooped to press the hypo to Kirk's shoulder, observing how even in unconsciousness his friend's fingers still clung to the Vulcan. For the moment he disregarded his own confused feelings - he was a doctor, Kirk a patient who needed him. At last he straightened, satisfied, as Kirk relaxed into a deeper sleep.

"That is all I can do for now," he said. "I'd like to do further tests tomorrow - I want to operate as soon as possible, but I need more information. From his reactions I'd say that arrow must have been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Spock looked up sharply. "If she has dared... I will expect a full report, doctor. You may go now - and ask Masters for anything you need."

"I don't like to leave him," McCoy said doubtfully.

"I will be here, and I will call you if there is any change."

"Very well; but, with your permission, I'll look in anyway before I sleep," McCoy said stubbornly, and after a moment the Vulcan nodded.

***

Masters was waiting in the corridor to conduct him to the slaves' quarters where a simple but satisfying meal was served to them by one of the house slaves. After eating they returned to the improvised surgery, where McCoy directed the proper arrangement of his equipment. Everything necessary for a well-equipped surgery had been provided, either brought from Earth or obtained on Vulcan, and when the task was finished McCoy had to admit that his own surgery had not been so well equipped. Dismissing the other slaves, Masters showed McCoy to a small bedroom off the surgery.

"It was the master's instructions that you should not be confined to the slave dormitory," he explained. "He felt that you should be near your patient."

When he was alone McCoy looked at the racks of equipment; he really was too tired to begin the tests tonight. Instead he returned quietly to Kirk's room.

A couch had been drawn close to the bed for the Vulcan, who lay apparently asleep. Kirk seemed to be resting quietly, McCoy thought; his temperature and pulse showing more normal readings, though he was still flushed and feverish. Nodding with satisfaction McCoy turned away, to meet the watchful dark eyes. He was certain that he had made no sound, and wondered at Spock's vigilance - The Vulcan must be concerned, he thought, but it might be only the care he would have taken of any valuable possession. He did not believe that a Vulcan would raise a Human slave - and a male at that - to the status of legal consort, but he was now prepared to concede that Spock seemed to feel more for Kirk than mere possessiveness. Saying nothing to the Vulcan for fear of waking Kirk, McCoy returned to his room.

***

At dawn McCoy was awakened by one of the house slaves, who served him a meal in his room. When he had eaten he washed, dressed in the clean tunic that had been laid ready, and after making preparations in the surgery, went to examine Kirk, As before, the Vulcan was in watchful attendance.

"I'd like to have him in the surgery, if possible," McCoy said. "It'd be easier to run the tests without disturbing him too much."

Spock thought for a moment, then bent to pick Kirk up as easily as a child; the Human stirred at his touch without waking, and settled into the Vulcan's arms as he was carried to the surgery.

The diagnostic bed Spock had provided was vastly superior to the ones McCoy was accustomed to - it had been recalibrated for human readings - and the tests proceeded quickly. During them Spock stood quietly aside, not interfering, though throughout his eyes rested anxiously on Kirk's face.

At last McCoy switched off the viewer he had been using, and sat back to consider his conclusions; taking the movement as a signal Spock came forward. "Well?"

"As I suspected, the wound was poisoned. Jim has a certain degree of resistance, though it's my guess that a Vulcan would have died very quickly. The arrow itself... you were correct, several splinters are still lodged in the wound."

McCoy snapped on the viewer, displaying an X-ray plate. "This is the one I'm worried about - see how close it is to the heart? No wonder a Vulcan surgeon didn't feel competent to tackle it."

"Is there... any danger?"

"Any surgery involved has an element of risk," McCoy said slowly, "but in this case there's a very good chance. I make no promises, though," he added hastily

"And if you do nothing?'

"He'll die. The splinter is moving and when it reaches his heart..."

"I see." The Vulcan moved over to the bed and stood looking down at Kirk, his face expressionless. Abruptly he turned away. "Proceed, Doctor. Have David inform me when you have finished."

***

The operation, though delicate, produced no unexpected complications and McCoy felt well satisfied as he cleaned up. He remembered the Vulcan's last words and understood that they: had been an order; when he opened the door to call David, however, Spock himself was waiting outside.

Some instinct warned McCoy to keep away from the bed as Spock leaned over it; instead, he busied himself with cleaning up, but out of the corner of his eye he saw an unsteady hand reach out to smooth the Human's hair. He gave Spock a few moments, then coughed.

"He should rest now," he said, more gently than he had intended, for the pallor of the Vulcan's face indicated that he too had been under strain. "You look as if you could do with some sleep yourself," he added with gruff sympathy. "Jim won't wake up for hours yet. I'd like to keep him here for a day or two, then he should take things quietly for a while."

"As you advise, Doctor." McCoy was almost sure he could detect a flash of amusement in his master's eyes. "You are in charge of his welfare; in fact, I appoint you his personal attendant, since he knows and trusts you."

"And what happens to me once he's better?" McCoy demanded.

"You will continue in my service - and his."

"As a slave?"

"Of course. David will instruct you in your duties."

It was no more than he had expected, McCoy thought as the Vulcan left, but perhaps - when Jim was fit again - there was some escape.

***

Kirk's recovery was rapid, and he was soon fretting impatiently at being confined to his room. Spock reinforced McCoy's orders, confirming the doctor's suspicion that Kirk, however he choose to look at it, remained Spock's property, to be jealously guarded. He felt some delicacy about discussing his friend's exact status, however, and it was left to Kirk to broach the subject.

One hot afternoon some three weeks after the operation, Kirk was resting on his bed, chatting idly to McCoy. Spock was entertaining guests that night and had insisted that Kirk rest before receiving them. A silence fell between the two friends, then Kirk asked quietly,

"Bones, when can I... when will I be fully fit?"

"You are now, for most things." McCoy looked up sharply. "Why? Something you want to do?"

"Yes. I mean... I want... " Colour flooded Kirk's cheeks, but he looked directly into his friend's eyes. "Can I go back to sleeping with Spock?"

"So that's it!" McCoy sprang to his feet. "Has he been making demands?"

"No, it's not like that at all. Sit down, Bones - I've got to make you understand."

The doctor complied reluctantly, and Kirk continued. "You know, of course, that I was captured by Vulcan slave traders. Spock bought me as a personal slave, and as... as a bed partner. You don't know what that can mean here... ask David; he could tell you... But Spock was gentle, careful not to hurt me, even when he took what was his by right..I didn't know it then, of course, but he was trying to win my love. He didn't... have to try very hard."

"You consented?"

"Not at first, but later... Yes, I did. I love him, Bones. Then... he set me free."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because he offered me marriage. Male bonding is legal here; and more than that... He wouldn't tell you, but if I'd died as a result of that arrow, so would he. We have - " Kirk touched his forehead - "a mental link as well as a physical one and each of us is dependent on the other's continued existence for life. Did you know the Vulcan life-span is more than double a Human's? When he took me as bondmate he threw half his life away. I'd say that's a pretty good proof of love, wouldn't you?"

"Jim, I just don't know," McCoy said honestly. "On Earth, I'd have said that you were the last person to become involved with another man; here... well, things are different... I only want you to be happy."

Kirk smiled, swinging his legs out of bed. "I think I've rested long enough -it's time I was getting ready for tonight."

***

As he served Kirk at table that night McCoy was granted the opportunity to see how Spock's friends treated the Human. He was not quite sure what he had expected - some wild orgy, perhaps - but it was in fact a sedate formal dinner, its only unusual feature being that all the guests, although they were obviously couples, were male - Kirk was the only Human.

McCoy could not follow the conversation, of course, since he had only just begun to learn the language, but it was clear that no-one questioned Kirk's status - he was treated with a respectful courtesy that puzzled the doctor. If Humans were regarded as a slave race, why was this one Human treated so differently?

The dinner ended at last, and hosts and guests gathered to continue their conversation in the main hall. McCoy, Masters and some of the senior slaves remained on duty until the visitors left. When the last lingerers had gone, Masters closed the house door and turned to McCoy; the doctor was staring towards the fireplace, and Masters followed his gaze.

Kirk and Spock were facing each other, still holding the wine cups from which they had drunk the farewell toast; as the two slaves watched Spock took Kirk's cup from him, set both aside, and turned back to the human. With a faint sigh Kirk stepped forward into the circle of the Vulcan's arms, nestling close as his hands rose to pull the dark head down to him. Spock said something which produced a ripple of laugher from Kirk, laughter which was promptly silenced as the Vulcan took his lips in a possessive kiss.

Instinctively, McCoy started forward, but Masters' warning glance halted him. He had no excuse to interfere, for he had seen no sign of coercion - Kirk had accepted the embrace eagerly.

"You must accept this," Masters whispered. "It is the Vulcan way."

McCoy nodded and discreetly followed his fellow slave from the room.

Neither of the men saw them go, being too absorbed in each other. It was Spock who broke the kiss at last.

"You should retire now, Jim." Despite his efforts at control his voice was uneven, slightly breathless.

Kirk smiled and pressed even closer, feeling with triumph the physical arousal the Vulcan was trying to conceal.

"All right," he said. "But only if you take me - I don't want to leave you just yet."

Without replying, Spock lifted the Human into his arms and began to carry him along the corridor. Kirk meanwhile amused himself by undoing the fastening of Spock's tunic, slowly pulling the rich material apart so that his wandering fingers could explore bare flesh.

"Jim," Spock said warningly as he halted outside Kirk's door. Kirk looked round then raised his eyes to Spock's.

"Your room... please," he murmured, the seductive tone of his voice, the hunger in the glowing eyes aroused the Vulcan even further.

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Spock, can't you tell I'm almost insane with frustration?" Kirk demanded "Bones says I'm fully fit again, and I want you."

"I don't know..." Spock began doubtfully. He hesitated, torn between his own desire and a reluctance to overfire his lover. Sensing his silence Kirk tilted his head and drew a slow, deliberate tongue from the base of Spock's throat to coil caressingly around an erect nipple. Spock gasped at the sensuality of the caress, and at the same moment one of the house slaves appeared, hurrying about his duties. He dropped his eyes discreetly as he passed, but Spock was only too well aware of tho picture they must present. He moved on to the door of his own room.

Now that the decision had been taken his desire began to build again, making him impatient to feel his lover's smooth flesh naked beneath his hands; the very intensity of his desire made him careful. He set Kirk on his feet and moved to light the lamps beside the bed; Kirk watched, his eyes bright with anticipation as the Vulcan stripped off his clothes and lay down.

Drawn irresistibly, Kirk moved closer to the bed, his eyes devouring the slender body of his lover; his lips parted slightly, his breath came faster and he could feel his own excitement mounting,

Spock in turn studied his bondmate's flushed face with pleasure, then ran his eyes down his body to pause at his groin; a slow smile dawned as he reached o-out to press the bulging cloth with his fingertips.

"You appear... most uncomfortable, Jim, " he said, laughter in his voice. "If you would care to join me, I am certain that I can relieve your problem." Kirk smiled in response and began to undress slowly, lingering over each action. He knew Spock liked to watch him doing this, and he found the intense gaze exciting. Then, naked, he lay down beside Spock, close but not touching, his attitude indicating that on this occasion he wished to submit to his lover. Spock raised himself to lean over Kirk and pressed his lips to the smiling mouth. They no longer needed the formal approach to the meld the link formed as sweetly, as naturally, as inevitably as the kiss, drawing their minds together into a unity no human lovers could hope to attain. The awareness of their love for each other filled them as they remained locked mouth to mouth, mind to mind, its gentle warmth slowly increasing however as the unashamed desire grew stronger, urging them to extend the mental closeness to a fusion of their bodies.

The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, more demanding. Spock worked insistently at Kirk's lips until they parted, allowing admittance to his exploring tongue, and he searched out the familiar contours of that delicious mouth. Kirk grunted his pleasure and captured the invading tongue with his own, sucking avidly as he savoured the spicy taste he had been missing for so long. Taking advantage of Kirk's preoccupation Spock slid his hands over the human's belly down to the sleek softness of his thighs; his fingers curled around firm flesh and Kirk released his mouth with a gasp of ecstasy as the expert fingers began to stimulate him.

At last Spock released his grip on the erect, throbbing penis, knowing that any further manipulation would bring the Human to orgasm, and he didn't want that. Not yet.

"You are ready for me, it_seems," Spock announced teasingly. "I, alas, am still... " He gestured to his groin, where his own erection had subsided.

Kirk laughed, knowing that his lover was deliberately controlling his response to tempt Kirk to reciprocate caresses.

"I'll have to do something about that," he murmured, reaching for the hot silk-textured penis; his attentions produced no reaction, however, and Spock sighed.

"Are you certain you remember the correct technique?" he inquired plaintively, and Kirk shot him an indignant glance before lowering his head between the strong thighs.

Control this - if you can! he thought, knowing that Spock would read the challenge in his mind.

Spock tried valiantly, but the delicious pressure of the cool, moist lips, the soft, insistent sucking, filled his mind with such a storm of pleasure that any possibility of control was lost; only when he felt himself beginning to 

thrust deep into Kirk's throat did he entwine his fingers in the soft hair and pull Kirk's reluctant mouth from his penis.

Panting, they lay facing each other, deliberately postponing further action, then their hands began to move lazily over each other's bodies. Gradually Spock worked his way down until he was grasping Kirk's buttocks, squeezing the soft flesh rhythmically; Kirk responded by pushing backwards, offering himself to the tormenting hands, but was taken by surprise when rigid fingers penetrated him, burrowing deep. He stiffened in shock, almost afraid to move so exquisite was the sensation; Spock's other hand returned to fondle his penis, and warm lips fastened greedily on his nipple. Hands and mouth began to work together, teasing the human into a mindless ecstasy; he writhed, sobbing, begging for release, and at last Spock withdrew his hand and raised his head to smile at him triumphantly.

"Spock, please!" Kirk gasped, pulling urgently at the Vulcan's shoulders. "I need you... I need you now... take me. 0h, please, Spock!"

He was almost sobbing as he begged for release, and the Vulcan yielded to his pleas; as he moved to kneel between Kirk's wide-spread legs, Spock was panting with excitement, but retained sufficient control to enter Kirk's body carefully; then fully inserted he began to thrust, catching the human up in the powerful rhythm as they moaned their ecstasy in a duet of pleasure.

Despite their intense arousal their lovemaking lost none of its tenderness as each employed the caresses that gave his partner the maximum of pleasure. Spock held back deliberately, bringing Kirk with him, so that when his body stiffened in orgasm his own release was echoed by the wet warmth of Kirk's ejaculation between their tight-pressed bellies. With a groan the Vulcan slumped forward across Kirk's writhing body as they clutched each other tightly; Kirk signed and shuddered into stillness, his hands rising to cradle the dark head against his chest.

"Marvellous!" the human whispered into one delicate ear. "I didn't realise just how badly I needed you."

"Fortunate," Spock replied as he brushed a light kiss across Kirk's mouth, "I have not finished with you yet, Jim."

"Mmm." As his heartbeat steadied Kirk became aware of Spock's penis still within his body. He laughed delightedly. "Are you trying to exhaust me again, Spock?" he murmured,

"Do you mind?"

"No - I want yon to."

Kirk resumed his fondling of the silken hair, marvelling as always at the depth of the Vulcan's desire for him. When, as a slave, his body had served Spock's need, the Vulcan had controlled his passion for fear of frightening him; now, as Bondmates, both enjoyed Spock's reserves of energy, and Kirk revelled in the domination he had once thought so shameful.

Now, after a few moments to regain his breath, it was Kirk who initiated their lovemaking, contracting his muscles around Spock's penis until he felt it begin to grow and harden inside him. He had never dreamed that he could enjoy being used by a man - now he knew that only in Spock's arms would he find complete fulfilment.

The first pale streaks of dawn were lightening the sky when Spock withdrew from Kirk's body for the last time and turned on his side to cradle his exhausted Bondmate to his arms.

"How do you feel, Jim?" he murmured, anxious lest the wildness of the night had been too much for his lover.

Kirk stretched luxuriously and settled closer. "I feel... complete again," he whispered in a tone of drowsy contentment. "Kiss me to sleep, Spock."

It was one of the Human's favourite caresses, Spock leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Kirk's, maintaining the gentle pressure until the Human's body relaxed in his arms, and the heavy eyes closed in sleep. He remained for some time studying the sleeping face lovingly, marvelling that he could feel this degree of tenderness for anyone - and marvelling even more that he should be so loved in return.

Then he frowned as his eyes fell on the newly-healed scar on Kirk's shoulder; he had so nearly lost this beloved one... and Kirk was so vulnerable. His eyes narrowed to a look of absolute concentration as he considered the problem - had Kirk seen him at that moment he would have known why Vulcan Warriors were feared throughout the galaxy. After some moments the set expression faded as he reached a decision, but the dark eyes .were troubled as he placed a final kiss on Kirk's partly-open mouth, drew the fair head to his shoulder and settled to sleep.

***

The following morning McCoy accompanied Masters as for the first time he served Kirk's breakfast in Spock's room. They were sleeping when the slaves entered, and despite his intention not to be curious McCoy could not help noticing how relaxed and - yes, content - Kirk looked as he slept in Spock's arms. Grudgingly he accepted that this relationship did indeed seem to be Kirk's own choice - he could only hope the Vulcan was as deeply committed.

Spock rose at once, and attended by Masters went to his bath; he returned. fully dressed while Kirk was still eating and explained that he was going into the city that morning - Kirk was to rest until he returned.

When the two men were alone, Kirk glanced across at McCoy. "Bones, I never did thank you properly for saving my life; I owe you so much... and it's all my fault that you're here."

"Your fault?"

Yes. I told Spock about my life back on Earth, my career, my friends... when I needed a doctor he remembered your name, and arranged for you to be brought here. I wish you hadn't been involved."

"If I hadn't been, you'd be dead - and from what you tell me, so would Spock," McCoy answered gruffly. "Don't blame yourself, Jim - it's not as if I left anything important behind me... not since Joanna died," he finished softly. 

"But still... "

"That's enough,. If it comes to that, you didn't ask to be enslaved either. Come on now - your bath's getting cold."

Kirk grinned and slid out of bed; despite himself, McCoy coloured as he saw on his body the evidence of his physical relationship with Spock. He looked away hastily, but Kirk had seen his embarrassment, and said quietly,

"It's what I want, Bones."

"I know. Don't worry - I'll get used to it."

"I hope so. Never forget - you're my friend; but I love him. If I had to choose between you... well, please don't ask me to."

***

As time passed McCoy gradually adapted to the strange world in which he found himself. He quickly realised that for a slave he was permitted an unusual degree of freedom, allowed to keep his own room, to dress in the tunic that was usually only permitted to older slaves, rather than the normal loincloth. His duties were neither exacting nor degrading, as he was required only to serve Kirk in the role of personal attendant.

As his familiarity with Vulcan customs and language increased, however, the scope of his duties widened. He was often required to attend the human slaves of Spock's friends; and the Vulcan encouraged him to do so, even permitting him to keep the payment he received. As he moved more freely around Vulcan be became aware of just how fortunate Kirk had been - sometimes he had to tend newly-acquired bed slaves who had been injured by their masters, and his gentle nature recoiled at what had been done to some of them. He ventured. to protest only once and the result of that outburst was a sharp and painful reminder from Spock that he was himself, only a slave - apart from that his master treated him with courtesy.

Through Spock's recommendation he was eventually invited to work with a Vulcan surgeon, and he learned much. To his astonishment Satek treated him as a colleague, and was as eager to learn as he was to teach; seeing the human's surprise, the Vulcan doctor explained that humans were not, in fact, regarded as an inferior race. They were taken as slaves because Earth had as yet not achieved star flight; slave raids, therefore, produced no retaliation. Whatever his race an intelligent man was valued for his abilities so that although he was a slave, McCoy was eventually able to treat Vulcans as well as humans. For the same reason Kirk, once he had been freed, was an acceptable consort for Spock; the bar had been the fact of his slavery, not his race. 

One morning, when McCoy and Masters entered the bedroom - Spock had not purchased another attendant, and Masters served him in that capacity himself - the Vulcan was already up mad dressed for travelling; Kirk was still in bed, and smiled his usual greeting before returning his attention to Spock.

"I shall be away for a few weeks," the Vulcan announced abruptly. "David, I leave you in charge of the household; McCoy, I entrust my Bondmate to your care."

"Yes, sir." McCoy murmured acknowledgement.

"Jim, I will send a message if I can, but do not be disturbed if you do not hear from me. If there is any... problem... contact Dr. Satek; he has my confidence. I would prefer it," the Vulcan hesitated, "if you did not leave the house while I am gone."

"Trouble?" Kirk asked anxiously.

"Possibly. But you should be safe here. Farewell, Jim."

"Goodbye, Spock." Kirk then added a brief phrase in Vulcan, to which Spock replied gently in the same language.

"Where's he going?" McCoy asked curiously as Masters followed Spock out.

Kirk shook his head. "I don't know," he said slowly. "But Bones - I don't think that arrow was an accident after all - it was meant for Spock."

As the days passed and Spock did not return, Kirk began to worry; though he tried to hide it McCoy saw the deepening shadows in the hazel eyes, and sought to divert his friend by talking of their previous life on Earth. He was partly successful, for he had learned by now not to criticize Spock and Kirk responded to the purely Human friendship, for he had always refused to regard the doctor as a slave. 

Masters occasionally joined them, and he too gradually relaxed in the friendly atmosphere, telling them of the life he had led at home, in England; of his capture by a raiding ship, and of his varied fortunes since. He had been a slave for most of his adult life and, as a young man, had been highly valued; fortunately, as he grew older, he had adapted to the position of steward, but his fortunes had been varied until Spock had bought him on the death of his previous master and installed him as overseer of his household. While in no way condoning the Vulcan attitude to slavery, Masters had long since become resigned to his own fate; he was only too grateful to end his days in the service of a considerate master, and served Spock loyally. 

About a week after Spock's departure McCoy was urgently summoned to Satek's clinic in the city to assist with an operation on a high-ranking Vulcan patient; it was an interesting case and the Vulcan thought his human colleague would benefit from the experience.

The visit involved an overnight stay in the city, and when McCoy returned he was subdued, thoughtful, watching Kirk with an almost angry pity. Kirk did not notice, but Masters did and questioned him; McCoy hesitated, seemed about to speak then changed his mind - if he was wrong, to speak out would only cause trouble, he said.

Some days later McCoy and Kirk were in the garden when an anxious Masters came in search of them - a group of Vulcans had arrived at the house and were demanding to see Kirk. Intrigued, the Human hurried indoors, followed by McCoy in the role of personal attendant.

The Vulcans turned as the Humans entered; a man and a woman, poised, confident, richly dressed, attended by four heavily-armed guards.

The man spoke first. "You remember me, Kirk?"

"I don't think... you, of course; Sordel!"

McCoy started; Kirk had told him of the attempt that had been made to persuade him. to murder Spock.

"Indeed. This is my sister, T'Pring." The man paused, as though savouring his next words. "Consort to Kay't Spock."

Kirk laughed, and McCoy closed his eyes in anguish at the confidence of his tone.

"I don't believe you - Spock is my Bondmate."

"Speak respectfully - slave." Sordel's hand lashed out, striking Kirk viciously across the face. "My sister and Kay't Spock were married ten days ago."

"No... it's not true," Kirk said stubbornly, and McCoy stepped forward.

"Jim, it is true," he said compassionately. "I heard it in the city, but I couldn't tell you, in case... in case I'd picked it up wrong."

"Bones? No, he wouldn't... Spock wouldn't hurt me." The hurt and bewilderment in the hazel eyes sickened the doctor; he found himself hating Spock at that moment with savage loathing .

"Enough!" It was the woman, T'Pring. Her voice dripped contempt as she continued, "Do you think I would be here without my husband's consent, and at his bidding? You - his Bondmate? You presume too far, slave. For a time he used you as bedmate, but he has no further need of you now, and has asked me to dispose of you - your continued presence in his house is an embarrassment. I think... yes. Sell him to the Klingons, Sordel; he has been well trained as a pleasure slave, from what Spock tells me, and it would be a pity not to make use of his talents. As for the others - sell them too - I would have my own servants about me."

"As you wish, Sister. Take them!"

As the guards started forward Kirk, who had been standing frozen in numb horror, suddenly came to life.

"No! I won't believe it - not unless Spock tells me himself he doesn't want me. He wouldn't let me be sold to the Klingons... he wouldn't! Spock! Spock! Help me!"

He turned to run for the door, but at a sign from T'Pring one of the guards clubbed him viciously across the head and he fell to the floor. McCoy tried to go to him, but was hustled out and loaded into an aircar, followed by Kirk and Masters.

After a short journey the three men were taken into a building and locked into a secure room; no-one came near them except for a general slave who brought food and water, Kirk still seemed dazed, the back of his head bleeding sluggishly where he had been struck, and he made little response to the doctor's anxious questions; he refused to eat, and accepted a little water only at McCoy's insistence. None of the three slept that night.

In the morning Sordel returned, accompanied by a group of aliens - McCoy recognised only Klingons and an Orion; the other races were strange to him, but he saw with curiosity that there were no Vulcans,

Masters and McCoy were ignored, but Kirk was pulled roughly to his feet; he stood apathetically, displaying no interest in what was happening; indeed, so listless did he seem that McCoy began to fear for his sanity.

"These are the slaves, gentlemen," Sordel said. "The two older ones are a bonus - dispose of them at what profit you may. This is the one to be sold - the human James Kirk, trained as personal attendant and bedmate by Kay't Spock." 

"I remember seeing him when he was first auctioned," one of the Klingons broke in. "Indeed, I bid for him myself, but his price rapidly rose beyond my means at the time. I think he was the most expensive male slave ever sold on Vulcan. It is strange that he should come on the market again so soon."

"It is a question of avoiding scandal, gentlemen He was unfaithful to his master with another slave, but Kay't Spock generously spared his life - the only condition of his sale is that he be taken from Vulcan at once."

One of the Klingons laughed coarsely. "So he likes variety, does he? He'll got plenty of that as a pleasure slave on my ship."

"The bidding has not yet begun, Captain," the Orion remarked softly. "May we get on with it, Sordel - I have a client in mind for this one."

"At once, Haruth. Remember, gentlemen, such an opportunity will not come your way again." Sordel reached out to stroke Kirk's cheek and the Human shrank away, in revulsion. "Indeed, were it not for Kay't Spock's condition, I think I would bid for him myself - he is a rare specimen. Who will open?"

Bidding was fierce and McCoy found it hard to follow; at last, however, the three were sold to Haruth.

There was no delay; the three slaves were hustled at once into a sealed aircar, and, after a short flight landed in a high-walled courtyard. Haruth led them into an ornately furnished room, told them to wait, and withdrew.

In response to McCoy's gentle urging Kirk sat down on a couch, but his blank eyes filled the doctor with fear - Kirk was too deeply shocked, at the moment to understand what was happening, but McCoy dreaded his return to awareness.

"McCoy, I don't like this." Masters indicated the room. "I'd say we were in the ancestral home of one of the old Vulcan families - some of these aristocrats have very depraved tastes. I have a horrible feeling that this is only the beginning for Jim - he could end up in an Orion brothel... I know what that can be like..." Masters shuddered at the memory, and McCoy looked;at him. sharply. "He's not going to suffer that," he said determinedly. "David, there's a way... fast and painless... Will you help me kill him.?"

"I fear I cannot permit that, my slave," came a cool voice from the doorway; the two turned to stare in disbelief at the tall slender alien who walked into the room.

"Spock! How could you... you devil," McCoy stammered; overcome with rage and grief he launched himself at the Vulcan, who brushed him aside effortlessly.

"Listen to me!" Spock gripped McCoy's arms and shook the enraged doctor furiously. "I knew nothing of this, I swear. I returned and found him missing, the house empty. Haruth owes me a debt... he brought you instantly to me,. knowing that Jim was no slave, but my Bondmate."

"You didn't know?" McCoy said contemptuously. "And I suppose you didn't marry T'Pring either?"

"It is not as she wished you to believe. I will explain later - now I must go to Jim."

Putting McCoy aside Spock walked over to the couch and sat down beside Kirk, reaching out to lift his chin until the blank eyes met his,

"Jim?" he whispered softly, stroking Kirk's hair. "Jim, I am here. Please answer me."

The staring eyes closed slowly, then opened again, focusing with painful intensity.

"Spock?" It was the merest thread of sound.

"Yes, Jim."

A long shudder shook the Human's body; his head wound was still painful and he slumped forward into Spock's arms, clinging fiercely. "0h Spock, don't send me away," he moaned. "Keep me as your slave, let me serve you... I'll ask nothing more... only don't make me leave you."

"Jim, you are my Bondmate; and my beloved." Spock's arms closed possessively about the Human, "I told you - I will never leave you, or allow you to leave me."

"But... you don't want me any more," Kirk faltered,

"Do I not?" Spock's voice was fiercely tender as he pressed the Human closer, and Kirk coloured.

"But T'Pring said..."

"Let me explain." Spock glanced up, and beckoned McCoy and Masters closer. "When McCoy confirmed that the arrow had been poisoned, I knew my sister had not abandoned her intent to kill me. As my Bondmate you too were in danger, and I wondered how best to protect you. It occurred to me that if I were to provide myself with a legal heir, T'Uriamne would gain nothing by my death; for this reason I took T'Pring as secondary wife, as is customary in cases of male bonding, when an heir is desired. I thought to tell you later, when the succession was assured, but hesitated lest the knowledge caused you jealousy. That was my first mistake.

"My second was in not realising that T'Uriamne had worked on T'Pring, convincing her that if you were out of the way, I would make her my consort. She is an ambitious woman, and needed little persuading. It was her brother Sordel who aided her. The first I knew of their plan was when the link warned me that you were in distress; I returned home at once, to find the house deserted, you missing. Jim, you will never know how I suffered then... They had tried to make it seem that you had escaped with McCoy and Masters, that you had left of your own free will; but I was not deceived - I know you too well. My suspicions fell on T'Pring and I... persuaded... her to tell me what she had done. However, she did not know what Sordel's exact plans for you were and I feared that I might reach you too late. Then I received a message from Haruth - as the wealthiest slave trader on Vulcan, he had been invited to bid for you. All those so invited were aliens who did not understand that an unfaithful Bondmate is always killed, never sold. Haruth, however, was the only one who knew what you were to me; his suspicions were aroused, and as he owes me a service he bid for you, knowing that if I had, for some reason, discarded you, he had nothing to lose. He brought you directly to me; he will be well rewarded."

"And the others?" Kirk asked.

"As soon as I knew that T'Uriamne was involved I consulted the family council. Her actions have dishonoured the family - she has been disowned, cast out, so that she will never have any claim against our house. Lest she cause further trouble she has been sent as secondary wife to a distant kinsman on one of our colony planets - I scarcely think her new life will be to her liking.

"As for T'Pring - " Spock's eyes flashed dangerously. "I could have forgiven her being deceived by my sister, but I will not forgive her instruction that you be sold as a pleasure slave to the Klingons - she knew what such a life would do to you. She will bear my son, but instead of keeping her in honour as my secondary wife as I had intended, she will be returned to her family in disgrace; the child will be reared by a kinswoman of mine."

"And... Sordel?"

"He is dead." The Vulcan smiled as he spoke, and Kirk shivered at the vindictive tone. "He did not die easily, or quickly. Haruth told me that he dared to lay hands on you, to look at you with desire. Jim, do you understand now?;"

"Yes, Spock. I knew you wouldn't... even if you'd become tired of me, you'd never have sold me like that and even when it seemed hopeless, I still went on loving you," Kirk said softly,

"Thank you, Jim." Spock lifted his Bondmate's hand to his lips. "Now, you are tired - you must rest. Dr. McCoy, David - rooms have been prepared for you -attend me in the morning."

Rising, Spock lifted Kirk carefully into his arms; Kirk sighed and relaxed into the possessive embrace he had thought lost forever.

***

The following morning McCoy and Masters were shown into Spock's room. Kirk was still in bed, propped up on the pillows, a light cover draped over his naked body; he smiled as the two entered, and McCoy saw with thankfulness the peace in the hazel eyes. He could no longer deny that whatever had drawn Kirk and Spock together, love was the prime factor. He had seen Kirk's shocked bewilderment when he thought himself rejected and the blazing joy in Spock's eyes when he had recovered his Bondmate, and knew that while he might never understand such a love, he had learned to accept and trust it.

Spock, dressed in a richly-coloured robe, was standing by the bed; he beckoned the two men closer, and reached for McCoy's ear before placing something in his hand. Bewildered, McCoy stared down at the gold earring that lay in his palm and looked up to see Masters gazing at his own.

"You are both free," Spock said quietly. "David, you have served me well. McCoy, you gave me back my greatest treasure. Your freedom is a small repayment."

"Bones, Spock says he'll arrange for you both to be sent back to Earth if you want to go," Kirk broke in excitedly.

Masters shook his head. "There is nothing there for me now," he said. "If you permit it, sir, I would rather continue to serve you as I have done."

"Be my freedman, then," Spock agreed. "I should be sorry indeed to lose my faithful steward."

"What about you, Bones?" Kirk asked.

"What will you do, Jim?"

"I?" Kirk laughed softly, happily; catching Spock's hand he raised it caressingly to his cheek. "I remain with my Bondmate."

"I think I'd like to stay too," McCoy said thoughtfully. "You never know, you might need me again - and there is work for me here, work that only I can do," he added defensively.

Kirk smiled at him and even the Vulcan's eyes seamed to soften. "You will also be my freedman," Spock promised. "Under my protection you will learn much and I think that you have much to teach us. I think the days will not be long in coming when Humans and Vulcans will meet as equals and it should be an interesting combination. Do you accept my offer?"

"I accept, with thanks," McCoy said quietly.

Kirk smiled again and tugged at Spock's hand, pulling the Vulcan down beside him. "Well now that's settled, go away," he said dreamily.

"What do you mean...?" McCoy began, but Masters chuckled. 

"I think we'd best go," he commented with a wink.

"Huh?" McCoy's eyes focussed on Kirk's hand, busily unfastening the clasp of Spock's robe. "Oh - I see what you mean. Come on, then."

As the two men, unnoticed, left the room, McCoy's final defensive explanation came floating back.

"Well, after all, I'm a doctor - not a Peeping Tom!"


End file.
